


A Conflict of Morality

by typical_art_dork



Category: Heathers
Genre: A wild ride tbh, F/F, Fix-it fic with a twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 08:54:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16829260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typical_art_dork/pseuds/typical_art_dork
Summary: Veronica Sawyer can't bury her past; Heather McNamara can't bury her sadness.Oh, and J.D., Heather Chandler, Kurt, and Ram are live and in the flesh. Something's off about them, though-- that's just Veronica's luck.





	A Conflict of Morality

00\. PROLOGUE 

VERONICA 

Something was deeply, undoubtedly wrong. 

Veronica scanned the cafeteria as she made her way to the table she shared with Martha and Heather McNamara, searching for any sign of a threat. The logical side of her was scrambling to come up with a reasonable explanation for the way her heart was pounding in anticipation. She had no reason to feel jittery; he was gone, blown into bits on the football field three months ago. Things were good now, the dust had settled. So why was she suddenly having a hard time breathing? 

She slammed her lunch tray down on the table, and Martha and Mac jolted in surprise. Veronica winced apologetically and plopped down in her seat. 

She could play it cool. She could swallow this weird gut feeling and talk with her friends at lunch on a normal day. Normal normal normal. 

"Ronnie, you look spooked. Everything okay?" Mac's knowing eyes met hers, and she fought down the butterflies in her chest. 

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine... So, how was your bio exam, Martha?" Everything was fine. Everything was fine. The air felt hot and musty and heavy, and everything was not fine, but Veronica sat up straighter and forced a smile.

Martha blinked owlishly at her. 

"My bio exam was last week... I got a 90, though." She brightened at that, and Veronica flashed her a grin. 

"Good on you, Dunnstock! And you detest bio, too!" Martha laughed, reddening.

(There was something terribly, horribly wrong. It was unquestionable.) 

Mac smiled, too, reassured now that Veronica was hiding her fear better. 

The feeling was stronger now. Veronica fought the urge to sweep the cafeteria for whatever it was; it was here, she was sure of it. 

The cafeteria doors slammed open before Mac could question Veronica again. She wasn't worried about her yellow-clad friend, though, because her mind was too busy short-circuiting at the boy in the trenchcoat in the doorway. 

He wasn't supposed to be here. 

(They never found his body.) 

He was supposed to be gone. 

(They never found the bomb.)

He was supposed to be dead. 

"Veronica?" 

Martha and Heather were staring at her as if she had three heads. Was she imagining this? No, she couldn't be; J.D. didn't look like Heather Chandler or Kurt or Ram had (shimmery and flickering and translucent). He was here. So why was no one else frozen, rooted to the spot, staring at him like Veronica was? 

"Veronica, what are you staring at?" 

Veronica whipped around to face her friends, eyes wild. This was not right, nothing about today was normal. 

"J.D.! Are you both going to sit here and tell me you don't see him in the doorway?!" 

Heather McNamara laughed, and it made Veronica's gut twist with dread. She felt queasy, dizzy, numb. 

"What, you mean trenchcoat kid? He's the new kid, how do you even know his name? Seriously, Ronnie, are you alright?"

Veronica was going to pass out. She just knew it. 

And then she followed Martha's gaze to Heather Duke's table, and the dread in her stomach twisted into a deep, all-encompassing panic. 

Duke was laughing, throwing an arm over Heather Chandler's shoulders, mocking Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney as they told some vulgar joke. 

This was so bone-chillingly wrong that Veronica barely had time to register it before she felt a tap on her shoulder. 

"Greetings and salutations. I don't believe we've met--" 

And then her head hit the lunch table as everything went black.


End file.
